Enlighten Me, Mr Carson
by Hogwarts Duo
Summary: Someone from Mrs. Hughes' past invites her for a drink, but Mr. Carson isn't so keen on the idea. A trip to the village, a bottle of Scotch, and a glimpse into Elsie's past make for an enlightening evening for everyone.


**Enlighten Me, Mr. Carson**

"I can assure you, Mr. Carson, I will be just fine," she said for the umpteenth time since she'd informed him of her evening plans.

"I am certain you will be, Mrs. Hughes, since I plan on accompanying you." His tone was firm and growing more and more decisive with each uttering of the phrase.

"Really," she huffed. "I do believe I'm old enough not to need a chaperone," she countered, placing her hands on her hips and raising her eyebrows. "You act as if I'm some silly schoolgirl who can't fend for herself."

"I do no such a thing, and you know it. My sole concern is for your safety."

"My safety or the reputation of Downton Abbey, since the housekeeper would be seen in the village on a weeknight at a local establishment with an unfamiliar male without the benefit of an escort?" she countered, watching his face for any signs that she was making headway with her argument.

He took a breath and puffed out his chest in defiance. "I have no concerns about how you would conduct yourself in public, with or without someone watching. It is simply not wise for a lady to walk along the path from the house to the village and back after dark ... alone. You wouldn't allow Anna, Daisy, or even Miss O'Brien to do so, now would you?" The glimmer in his eyes told her he believed he'd just won the argument.

She opened her mouth to say something but paused for a moment, as if a thought had suddenly struck. "And what if this male friend of mine wishes to walk me home this evening? Would that be suitable to the esteemed butler of Downton Abbey?"

"It most certainly would not! You've said yourself you haven't seen this ... man ... since you were both teenagers. That was at least ... "

"Careful," she admonished. "Remember, you are older than I, and we wouldn't want to go down that garden path, now would we?" She had a trace of a smile forming about her lips, but her tone had softened and held a bit of mirth. "Mr. Carson, I am old enough to know when someone has dishonorable intentions, and I can assure you, Timothy Sparrow is not the sort of man who would invite me into town and then press his affections on me, or on any lady for that matter. He simply wished to see me while he was in town. We were great friends growing up since he lived on the neighboring farm."

Carson's expression softened as he looked into her face. "I understand that," he said gently. "I merely wish to see that you're safe this evening. That is my one and only concern. If you'd like, I can sit alone and nurse a pint while you catch up on old times in a nearby corner with this Mr. Sparrow. When you are ready to leave, I will happily see you to your sitting room door. I promise not to intrude or cause any disruptions. We would simply be two friends walking to and from the village together after the sun has gone down." He studied her face for a moment. "Besides, Elsie, it's been months since I've had a chance to enjoy an excursion simply for pleasure. Sitting alone in the local pub isn't exactly my idea of fun, but at least it is an alteration from the routine, and I'm sure the younger staff would appreciate having both of us out of the house for a few hours."

She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as a smile formed at her lips. "Very well, Charles, if you insist. I told him I would meet him a little past eight, so we'll need to leave promptly after dinner. Understood?"

His shoulders relaxed and he nodded. "Understood." He watched her leave, and his mind began to race with other, more disturbing thoughts. What if this Timothy Sparrow were another Joe Burns? He'd been a friend of Elsie's in her younger days as well, and he'd returned to ask her to marry him. The thought of Elsie Hughes having a suitor made his knees go weak, his head pound, his heart ache. He knew, despite what he'd said to her face, that he was more than a little concerned and most certainly curious about what might transpire this evening. He didn't want to spy on her, but he felt a protectiveness take over, and by the time he realized he must sound like a jealous lover, he was already deep into the argument and couldn't very well turn back. After all, he had made several valid points, and to win an argument against Elsie Hughes was something of a monumental feat.

The walk into town had been most enjoyable for both Elsie and Charles. He'd offered her his arm and she had gratefully accepted, both of them secretly thankful for the opportunity to share a few quiet moments in the company of the other and at such a close proximity. The banter had been light and cheerful, far removed from the daily routines and duties of their respective jobs and demands on their day.

By the time they'd reached the establishment, Elsie had almost forgotten the reason for the outing. She bit her lip a little, a look that always caused Charles Carson to go weak in the knees. He didn't think she had any idea how attractive or vulnerable she looked in those moments of deep contemplation and uncertainty, but that made her even more beautiful to him. He gave her elbow a little squeeze.

"You don't have to go in and meet him, you know. You could always tell him the horrid butler refused to let you have a night off or that there was something of an emergency. I'm sure leaving Thomas and O'Brien unsupervised is enough to make that statement true enough."

She laughed a little nervously. "No, it's fine, but thank you for the offering." She turned and her eyes locked with his. "For as much as I protested this afternoon, I am grateful to you for coming with me this evening. I'll admit I was a bit nervous."

"It is my pleasure, and should you need me, I shall be nearby. You need only cast a look in my direction. I can assure you, I won't let anything happen to you."

And she knew he was telling her the truth. His voice was soft and deep, caressing her ears and soothing her nerves. "Charles, why don't you join us? I know it might be boring, but I ... I hate to see a man drinking alone," she teased, hoping to mask her true reason. She was enjoying his company and would have much rather spent her evening with him in front of the fire sipping wine or tea instead of venturing into town on a chilly night for a drink with someone from her distant past.

"No, but thank you for the offer. I wouldn't want to impose, and I'm sure you'd feel much more comfortable taking that trip down memory lane without an outsider on the journey." He smiled at her, but that smile didn't reach his eyes. "You have a good time and when you're ready to head home, I will be waiting."

She thanked him before opening the door and stepping inside. She turned to tell Charles she wouldn't be too late, but she noticed he hadn't followed her inside. She gave it a moment's pause, but was soon distracted by the frantic waving of a man at a corner table. From the looks of it, he'd already had a drink or two and had one waiting for her.

It pained Charles greatly to watch Elsie enter the building without him by her side, but he had promised to stay out of the way. Letting her enter alone was his way of distancing himself from the situation, silently letting her know he would not be a nuisance. He stopped at the bar to order a pint, his eyes scanning the room and locating Elsie. Seeing no other tables available, he perched himself on a stool and waited.

It was the longest hour of his life, or so it felt. He kept a close eye on his dear, sweet Elsie, watching for any signs that she might need him or be readying to leave. He saw none of them. What he did see, however, made him uneasy. She was laughing more and more frequently at the apparent jokes this man was telling and the golden colored liquid in the bottle between them was disappearing rather quickly. Charles stiffened as he saw Timothy Sparrow rise from the table and head in the direction of the barkeep.

"Need another bottle, please. Seems this might be my lucky night after all, though I didn't think so at first. She looks so prim and proper. Wonderful thing ... strong drink, eh, buddy?" the man asked, nudging Charles in the arm. "From the look of things, you could use a stiff one, though maybe the little misses at home is a bit too stiff for you."

Carson stood to his feet abruptly, not caring one bit for the filth pouring from the man's mouth.

"Easy, easy. Only joking. Had a bit much myself tonight, though I think I poured more in the lady's glass than mine, if you get my meanin'. One or two more and I think we'll be ready for some real fun. Maybe when I'm done you could have a go at ..."

Charles grabbed the man by the front of his coat, fire blazing in his eyes. If the man knew what was good for him, he would not utter another word. He'd promised Elsie he wouldn't create a scene or interfere in any way, but he drew the line at some lowlife besmirching her honor and the good name of Elsie Hughes. That was something he was not going to let slide, regardless of what sort of spectacle he made or how angry Elsie would be with him.

In an instant, she was on her feet and crossing to stand beside Charles. "Would you kindly explain to me what this is about, Mr. Carson? Timothy?"

Charles gave a loud huff and shoved the man away from him before running his hand through his hair to return a stray strand to its usual place. "I'll leave that to your friend to explain, if he has the gall to repeat it." Charles never took his eyes off the man, who was now very red faced and not quite sure of what had just happened or how Elsie knew this giant of a man now leaning imperiously over him.

"Well, Timothy? You must have said or done something rather serious to get Mr. Carson so riled." She surveyed the red-faced man before her with a piercing stare, halfway guessing what had been said or implied.

"Merely asked for another bottle, Elsie. I thought we might take this one and go have a little fun somewhere more private. From what I remember, you used to enjoy a good drink, and I thought we might see where ... well, thought we might split the bottle between us," he said with a sly grin.

"I do enjoy a nice drink now and then, thank you very much. I enjoy a great many things, some of which I dare say you wouldn't even know how to pronounce."

"You've changed," he announced rather loudly. "The Elsie Hughes I knew could hold her drink as good or better than any of the lads and she wasn't so damn prim and proper."

Charles inhaled sharply and was about to say something, but the dainty hand on his arm stopped him. He watched as Elsie reached for a glass, poured a large drink of Scotch from the bottle, then downed it in one swallow, never flinching or giving any indication that it was distasteful to her prim and proper palate.

Before either man could utter a sound, she broke into a little limerick, one she hadn't repeated since her youth:

There was an old farmer who lived by a **rock.**

He sat in the meadow a wavin' his ...

fists ...

At some boys who were down by the **crick**

Their feet in the water, their hands on their ...

marbles ...

And playthings and in days of **yore**

There came a young lady who looked like a ...

lovely ...

young maiden. She sat on the **grass.**

She lifted her skirt and she showed us her ...

ruffles ...

and laces and a neat little **tuck**

She told them she was learning a new way to ...

raise ...

Up her children and teach them to **knit**

While the boys in the barnyard were shoveling ...

straw ...

from the stables. They worked day and **night,**

If ye think this is vulgar, then bless ye,

ye're right!

"The Elsie Hughes you knew is still inside me, though she has learned that there are finer things in life than limericks, strong drinks, and tumbles with fumbling lads out for a good time," she announced to Timothy through gritted teeth before turning her attention back to Charles.

Without another word, she reached up and drew his head to hers, kissing him squarely on the mouth. She let him taste the Scotch from her lips then pulled back, leaving him even more gob-smacked than he was at hearing the words tumbling from her. She felt a rich warmth fill her body as she kissed him, richer than any alcohol she could ever consume, an intense feeling of longing, desire, heat, a delicious heat. She felt his body stiffen immediately in surprise, unsure of what was happening, but within seconds, he began to relax and to return her kiss, though remaining every bit the gentleman she knew him to be.

She reluctantly removed her lips from his, taking a step back and giving him a simple nod of her head. "I believe you said you'd accompany me back home when I was ready to take my leave, Mr. Carson. I do think that time has arrived," she said with dignity and without any slurring of her words.

Charles stood a little taller, if that was even possible. He paid the barman for his pint as well as Elsie's last wee dram, then offered her his arm. He cast the roughish man a warning glare then turned and left with Elsie proudly on his arm.

The beginning of the walk home was a silent one. Charles was reluctant to say much of anything for fear of upsetting her. He could sense that she was deep in her thoughts, and he did not wish to interrupt her while she worked through them. So, he set a slow pace back to Downton Abbey, occasionally stealing a glance at her bathed in the light of the full moon and replaying that wonderful kiss over and over in his mind. In his wildest daydreams, he never could have imagined the scene he'd just witnessed.

It had been a heat of the moment decision, but one she would not regret if she lived to be a hundred. She had guessed that Timothy had bad intentions not long after she joined him at the table and saw the bottle with two glasses. She had paced herself in her drinking and had been cautious enough at dinner to eat more bread than anything else. Her heart swelled with pride and love as she watched Charles rising so quickly to her defense moments before, despite his promises to remain in the background. And, bless him, she loved him all the more for risking her fierce Scottish temper and stepping to her defense.

It was in her musings that she realized why she had confided in him about the outing in the first place, the reason she had half-heartedly argued with him about his accompanying her, why she had invited him to join them at the table. She realized that no man could ever compare to Charles Carson, butler of Downton Abbey, in her eyes. There was none like him, and she counted herself lucky to have him as the defender of her honor and her escort on such a lovely evening. No longer tense from the earlier scene, she slowed her steps until she stopped along the path, causing Charles to stop as well.

"Elsie?" he asked, his voice tender and full of concern. "Is something wrong?" In the moonlight, he studied her face, noting how the moonbeams danced across her cheeks, how the stars caused her eyes to sparkle, the soft glow of her hair. He felt his gaze drawn to her lips, and he wondered if they might still hold a trace of Scotch. He longed to know, but did not dare tempt fate.

With a shaking hand, she caressed his cheek, lightly brushing her thumb across his lips. She remembered their softness and how supple they felt beneath her own. She had kissed him in a heated moment, but now, she longed to kiss him for another reason entirely. Slowly, she stood on her tiptoes, her lips parted as they shared the same breath for a moment.

Realizing what was about to happen, Charles wetted his lips then lowered them to Elsie's. His hand rested on her waist, being mindful to keep things in perspective and not overstep any bounds. The last thing he wanted was to be associated with the brute they'd just left back at the pub. But as she kissed him leisurely, she slowly drove all thoughts from his mind.

She wrapped both arms around his neck and leaned into his embrace, hating herself for being so bold but loving the reactions she was eliciting from him. If she was right, and she usually was where he was concerned, their feelings were mutual, the love she felt for him was real and returned in full measure. When she felt his arms encircle her waist and pull her flush against him, she knew she had her answer. There would be no more outings without Charles Carson by her side, no more lads from her youth requesting dinner or drinks, no more lonely nights by the fire or summer days spent wishing for things she'd thought long gone.

The remainder of the walk took twice as long as it should've. Neither Charles nor Elsie was in a hurry to return to the house, to the flurry of activity that would await them. They knew it wouldn't be easy to forge ahead in this new relationship, but the best things in life were worth working for, worth fighting for, he reminded her. "Why do you think I fought so hard to go with you this evening?"

She looked up at him and grinned, shaking her head. "Enlighten me, Mr. Carson," she pleaded softly, her Scottish accent slipping into her words.

"I knew you were the best, and I could not tolerate the thought of someone stealing you away from me. I came to realize that while we work together, live together, share our days ... I had never told you how I felt, never shared my hopes and dreams with you. I promised myself that if I were given a chance after tonight, I would find a way to tell you how I felt, to be as bold as Mr. Sparrow or even Joe Burns. If they could find the courage to court Mrs. Elsie Hughes, surely I could."

She felt tears prickling at her eyes. "You say the loveliest things, my dear, silly man. You only ever had to ask, and I would have been yours. I've simply been waiting for you, though I didn't realize it until tonight."

"Can you forgive an old fool for making you wait so long, Elsie?"

"Only if you'll shut up and kiss me again," she teased.

"I would be only too happy to oblige, but correct me if I'm wrong, I believe you have a most comfortable settee in your sitting room. It should be large enough for two fine people such as ourselves to rest comfortably, perhaps with a nice glass of wine, or even a snifter of brandy from my personal supply."

She gasped, though he could tell she was teasing him a little. "Are you trying to get me drunk?"

"Only if it means you'll recite that limerick for me again and then kiss me a little harder and longer next time."

She looped her arm though his and began walking a little faster towards home. She'd show him a thing or two as soon as she got him locked inside her sitting room. She had years of ideas just waiting for him, and tonight was as good as any to start sharing those with him.

**The End!**

**A/N:** If you've made it this far, we thank you for reading our little story. Also, the limerick Elsie recites is a **variation** from The Assumption Song. If you're interested in hearing the actual song, please go to You Tube and search for The Wicked Tinkers The Farmer. Be warned: there are much naughtier versions of this song on the internet. We based ours on the Wicked Tinkers version.


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